


the gentle hum of anxiety

by retweet_this



Category: Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF
Genre: the social network AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 18:17:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15540144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retweet_this/pseuds/retweet_this
Summary: “Lawyer up, asshole, because I’m coming back foreverything.”





	the gentle hum of anxiety

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abetterwayto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abetterwayto/gifts).



> this is all liz's fault absolutely, i didn't even want this content out in the world

“What’s wrong with BU?” Jim asks. He’s all but leaned against the doorway, more than a little out of breath, his hair sticks to his forehead and all things considered, he looks not a bit out of place.

Jake looks back at his monitor. “I said ‘BU bitches’, not that BU was a bitch.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jim mumbles. He nods at Stephen and plops down on the bed beside him. “You know, I told you she’d hate you.”

“You know, I find it a little strange that you ran all the way to my dorm from your apartment, using the cardkey that I made for you, to ask why I was insulting your school and not to ask whether or not I was okay,” Jake hums. “I did just get dumped.”

“Jim only comforts if he knows it’s gonna lead to sex,” Stephen says, his laughter muffled by what’s probably Jim’s elbow in his face.

“I wasn’t going to comfort you because I know you’d be…” there’s a small pause as Jim searches for the word, “coding or whatever.”

Eloquent as always. “Or whatever.” Jake spins around in his chair and leans forward. “Do you still have Burnett’s phone number?”

Jim pushes himself off Stephen to sit upright. “Yeah,” he says, “but you know she hates you, right?”

“It’s not for sex, I need you to ask her the algorithm she used to rank the chess players.” At Jim’s blank look, he elaborates, “We’re ranking girls,” and suddenly the look isn’t so blank anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So did you get expelled?” Jim’s lying on his bed, some ratty textbook on his stomach. His hand is over the cover but Jake would guess it’s for some science class. Jim’s awful at science.

“Don’t you have your own apartment to be in?” Jake asks. He drops his bag on the floor as he plops down into his chair.

Jim shrugs. “Roommate’s got a girl over. And besides,” he smirks, “you like having me over. You made me a cardkey.”

“I regret that decision more and more with each passing day.” He doesn’t.

“So if you didn’t get expelled, what did they do?”

Jake cracks his knuckles as he turns his chair and starts up his laptop. “Academic probation for six months.” The computer boots up and he turns around again. “It was because they had my blog. That was stupid of me. Though, in all fairness, I was drunk.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have said that bit about the farm animals,” Jim points out. His brow furrows. “Speaking of your blog – you know, because you mentioned me in that last post, none of the girls at BU are speaking to me.”

Jake has to bite the inside of his cheek to resist the urge to smirk. “You’re better off without them.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jim sticks out his tongue. He lifts up the pillows and leans back into them, picking his book back up and resuming his reading. “I wish you’d gotten expelled so you’d have to go to BU and Jennifer Brown could dunk your head in a toilet for what you said about her.”

Jake doesn’t mention how unlikely that would be, in any capacity. He just breathes out a chuckle and goes back to his computer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jake’s never been to a Harvard party. He’s also never really been to parties in general but that’s more of a coincidence than actual intent. He’s just always been busy with stuff whenever there’s a party going on and then people just stopped inviting him.

Jim gets invited to Harvard parties, which is strange because Jim isn’t even a Harvard student, but Jake appreciates the efforts he goes through trying to get Jake off his ass and on the dancefloor of some frat. Even if it never works.

No one stops him at the door so he just slips inside, already sweating under his two layers from the heat. It takes him a second to find Jim standing near the wall and talking to some girl who leaves as soon as she sees Jake marching forward.

“Caribbean night?” he asks, brow raised. “Really?”

“Well they can’t _all_ be Harvard final clubs,” Jim says. He looks ridiculous in his straw hat and floral shirt, cargo pants not even covering down to his knees. “You here to see Stephen rattle out Lord of the Rings trivia to stop Jonah from getting a date?”

“I’ve come up with something,” Jake says.

Jim’s eyes widen. He stands there, arms crossed, just watching Jake gesture his head until he gets the hint and follows him out the back.

“So,” Jake starts, leaning against the wall, “people came to Facemash in a stampede, yeah? But not because they saw pictures of hot women, but it was hot women they –”

“Jake,” Jim says, “it is fucking freezing out here. A bit faster, please?”

“Oh.” He hadn’t even realized it, really. He shrugs off his jacket and hands it over. “Here.” Jim takes it with a grateful smile and Jake blames it on the hoodie and the fading heat from inside on the weird warm feeling he’s getting in his chest.

Jim nods along as Jake explains the concept, as simply as he can. After all, most college kids are like Jim, just trying to spend time with their friends and just maybe raising their social status to the top. And who doesn’t want to be part of an exclusive club?

“That sounds great,” he says. His legs are shaking and his hands are stuck under his arms, but he’s still smiling. “Really great. Like, uh, Ivy League of websites, huh?”

“Kind of,” Jake says. He licks his lips. Now’s the hard part. “We’re gonna need a little start-up cash to rent the servers and get it online. You know, internet stuff.” He pauses again. “I need a thousand dollars.”

If Jim had been drinking anything, he certainly would’ve spat it out by now. “Jake, that’s – Papi would _kill_ me for giving away that kind of money, you know that.”

“Don’t think of it as a loan,” Jake says quickly. “It’s – we’ll split it seventy-thirty. You’ll be CFO. It’s a business decision, he’ll understand. You’ll get something out of it.” Jim still looks unconvinced so he adds, “You’re the only one I trust enough to ask for something like this.”

Jim always thinks more with his heart than his head. He says he’ll do it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It would be a lot easier to focus on his new website if the whatever-the-fuck-their-names-were brothers would stop constantly sending him emails about their dumb website. Two terribly dumb brothers with no knowledge or insight or literally any idea into how the internet works trying to launch a website to meet girls.

Jake only has room for one “dumb bro” in his life who crashes on his bed whenever he has a bad date and makes him watch _Mission Impossible_ even though they’ve seen it hundreds of times. And Jake has to indulge Jim, because Jim is CFO and the primary backer and whatever else. But maybe he doesn’t mind the three-am visits as much as he should.

“It would be so much easier on my health if women had signs on them that said whether they were single or not,” Jim groans, kicking off his shoes and plopping down on the bed. He wiggles his toes. “Physically and mentally.”

Jake rolls his chair back toward the desk and adds the new line of code. “You know,” he hums, “sometimes you come up with genius ideas.”

“Do I?” Jim smirks. “Maybe that’s why I’m getting thirty percent.”

“You’re getting a bit more than that, actually.” Jake taps the enter key and gestures him over, watching the expression on his face as he reads the masthead.

“Co-Founder _and_ CFO?” Jim gapes at him. “Really?”

There’s a weird feeling in Jake’s stomach. He shrugs. “Like I said, you helped a lot –”

Jim kisses him. It’s quick, very quick, just a quick grab-his-face-and-kiss kind of a kiss, and he’s grinning when he pulls away. It's like his mouth covers his whole face with a weird sort of brightness. “I gotta call my dad.”

He runs out of the room and Jake just sits there for a few moments. His lips feel tingly. Is that normal? That shouldn’t be normal, he’s been kissed before, maybe –

As quickly as he left, Jim runs back in. “When’s the website going live?”

Just like that, Jake’s brain starts running again. “Right now. You keep in touch with any of your exes?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 “I don’t know I let you drag me to these things,” Jim mumbles under his breath. “They’re so fucking boring.”

“My tuition is paying for it,” Jake shrugs. “I thought you’d appreciate going to something for free.”

“I meant like, you know, a club.”

“Would Bill Gates be at a club?”

“Shut up.”

Jim doesn’t shut up for long. Jake hears someone whispering to him, hears his name dropped, and then Jim leans over and whispers, “Facebook me.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jake doesn’t know why Jim likes to bring up money and monetization. Well, okay, he does get it, Jim is the son of an immigrant, money has always been an issue, even if it isn’t exactly an issue anymore.

“I don’t want Mountain Dew ads on the site,” Jake sighs.

Jim walks backwards up the stairs to keep talking to him. “Don’t college kids love Mountain Dew?”

“ _You_ love Mountain Dew,” and Jake doesn’t mean to but he grins when Jim laughs and shakes his head. It’s been a good couple of days. The website is popular. They’re popular. Girls want to hang out with them – well, girls always wanted to hang out with Jim, since he can convince them he is in fact a Harvard student. But they want to hang out with Jake too.

The cease-and-desist letter isn’t exactly the best of news, but Jake can downplay the news easily. It’s not like Jim knows any better.

“It’s just them bitching at me,” Jake says dismissively when Jim confronts him with the papers. “It doesn’t mean anything. I didn’t even steal any of their code and if this gets into court, then _they’re_ the ones who will be humiliated. Not me.” He waits until Jim’s looking back at the letter to add, quietly, “Definitely not you.”

“You know that if there’s something wrong, if there’s ever anything wrong, you can tell me, right?” Jim asks.

That’s a dumb question. Jake resist the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m dealing with it, okay? Don’t worry about it. Now,” he sits back on the couch and folds his hands behind his head, “what were those girls’ names?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As soon as they enter the men’s room, Jim starts laughing. He leans against the counter to support himself but he still hunches over and nearly hits his head against the corner.

Jake’s response is only visibly subdued. He stares at his hands and blinks a few times. “I’ve never gotten sucked off in a women’s restroom before.”

“I know,” Jim grins. “All of this is very exciting and new for you, huh?” He just smiles wider when Jake just stares back. “So? What did you think?”

There’s a long pause as Jake tries to find the words to say it. “It was…” it was a lot of things. “Unsanitary?”

Jake’s the one who moves in for the kiss this time, while Jim is leaning against the bathroom wall and laughing his ass off. He’s still laughing a little when Jake presses his leg between his thighs and holds on to his shoulders as he kisses him. His hands tangle in his hair and he breathes out into his mouth and it’s.

When they get out of the bathroom, they’re holding hands. Unintentionally, because Jim’s dragging him out of the bathroom and they might have a plan for something but then Jake sees Jennifer Brown having dinner and that might be when shit hits the fan.

“Hi, Jen,” Jake says, standing over her table.

“Oh, Jake,” Jennifer replies. She doesn’t look all that pleased to see him. He probably should leave right then and there.

He swallows hard. “Hey, so, did you hear about my new website –”

“I don’t want to have a conversation with you, Jake,” she snaps. “Do you know what you said about me, about my family, about my bra size on your blog? On the internet for everyone to read?”

This is not at all what Jake expected. “But –”

“You wanted to compare women to farm animals. Is your new video game going to fix the hole in your soul or whatever?” Jennifer shakes her head. “Have fun with it, Jake. Don’t try to talk to me again.”

Jim’s waiting by the entrance for him, shifting on his feet. “So, how did it go with Jen? Did you apologize?”

Jake walks right past him and heads outside. “We need to expand.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 “I don’t like him,” Jim declares, on the plane. He’s struggling with his seatbelt for whatever reason. Every time he tries to tighten it, it gets too tight and he has to unbuckle and redo it. He groans and shakes his head.

“He’s not that bad,” Jake says, slowly. “I mean, he was only fourteen when he –”

“When he graduated from college and he was _twenty_ when he graduated from UCLA.” Jim drops his hands and turns to him. “He wasn’t shy about letting us know that particular fact.”

Jake licks his lips as he shifts in his seat. “He’s smart, he has money, he was one of the few investors to listen to us and see our potential –”

“Because you got bitchy with all the others –”

“Could you _stop_ interrupting me?”

There’s a long pause. Jim runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I don’t trust him. He came late, he wasn’t at all professional and the way he treats wo –” He abruptly closes his mouth and looks away.

Oh, great. Jake can’t believe it. “Were you going to say, the way he treats women? Did you stop yourself because you remembered Facemash? Which, by the way, regardless of the content, I did program while I was drunk and just broken up with, so can we take a moment to appreciate my genius?”

“Oh, like this whole fucking trip hasn’t been just that,” Jim mumbles under his breath. He probably didn’t mean for him to hear it but Jake does, because Jim’s never been good at whispering or being quiet or hiding his emotions or anything like that (and Jake knew this even before Jonah barged into his bedroom and threw a copy of the New York Times at them).

He’s still fiddling with his seatbelt. Jake leans over and clips it in for him. Maybe it’s intentional, maybe it’s not, but his hand stops on Jim’s thigh and he doesn’t move it away.

Jim’s looking down at his feet when he says, “You know, he’s right. We should drop the ‘the’.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Tell Stephen I can hear him counting down,” Jim sighs.

Jake covers the receiver. “Stephen, he can hear you counting,” he shouts across the room.

“It’s a momentous occasion!” Stephen shouts back.

“He says it’s a momentous occasion.”

“Yeah, I heard that.” There’s the sound of some shifting around blankets and a long sigh crackling on the other end. “One hundred and fifty thousand users, huh?”

“One hundred and fifty thousand users,” Jake repeats.

“Damn. We should get new servers.”

“You know how funny it is to hear you say that?” Jake chuckles. “You still don’t know what a server does, do you?”

“I don’t have to know what one does to know we need one,” Jim hums.

“Well, you’re right.” Jake leans back and kicks his feet on the bed. “Hey, if you’re feeling better by tomorrow, come by down the CS lab at ten. I’m interviewing interns for Palo Alto.”

Even through the phone, Jake can tell Jim’s demeanor has changed entirely. “Palo Alto? You mean the place Ben fucking Shapiro told you to go?”

“It was a suggestion that I think we should take.” A very large part of Jake just wants to snap at Jim, ask him why he’s so jealous of Ben when Ben’s name isn’t even on the masthead and Ben wasn’t the one who came up with the relationship status bit and Ben wasn’t the one who –

“CS lab at ten tomorrow,” Jim says. “I’ll see you there.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jim looks like he dressed up for the internship interviews and is now regretting that decision just a little, looking around at the party atmosphere they’ve created.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“They have ten minutes to get root access to a Python web server, expose its SSL encryption, and then intercept all traffic over its secure port,” Jake explains. He takes a second to enjoy Jim’s dumbfounded expression before translating, “They’re hacking.”

“Ah,” Jim nods.

“But here’s the beauty –”

“You’ll explain this bit in English too, right?” Jim chuckles.

Jake rolls his eyes. “Every tenth line of code written, they have to drink a shot. Every time the server detects an intrusion, the candidate responsible has to drink a shot. Then there’s the pop-up window of the program I made that appears simultaneously on all five computers, and the last candidate to hit the window has to drink a shot.” He stops when Stephen yells, then adds, “And yeah, every three minutes they have to drink a shot.”

“Huh,” Jim crosses his arms. “So they’re doing what you did with Facemash?”

“Not really, but sure.”

Jim scratches his chin. “You’re not going to make them get drunk on the job, are you?”

“No, no,” Jake assures him. “But, you know, if they can do it drunk then surely, they can do it sober.”

“I see.” There’s a small pause. Jim clears his throat and asks to speak outside, and Jake feels the hair rise on the back of his neck.

Outside the room is worse, because in the brighter lighting and the quieter scene, he can see every bit of apologetic emotion on Jim’s face as he says, “I can’t go to Palo Alto.”

“You can’t go,” Jake repeats, as a statement.

“Yeah,” he nods, shifting from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jake hasn’t had a drink all night but suddenly the room seems unsteady, curving around the edges, almost spinning. It’s a bad feeling. “I’ll – I’ll – Stephen and I will – We can be on the ground there.”

“Yeah,” Jim nods. “But, um, there’s also…” he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out an envelope. “Eighteen thousand should cover the summer, yeah?”

The dizzy uneasiness from before vanishes and suddenly Jake is very aware of how firmly his feet are planted on the ground. He blinks. “Eighteen thousand.”

“Yeah,” Jim’s smile looks even more stupid than it usually does. “We’re partners, right? I’m CFO? This is what I do?”

For a very short second, Jake wonders if there’s a way he can give Jim’s father this money and somehow convince him to let Jim come to Palo Alto for the summer. But the thought disappears as soon as Stephen sticks his head out the door and shouts, “Hey, someone finished!”

Jake heads right for the computer and checks their work. He smiles and holds out his hand. “Welcome to Facebook.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ben is a whirlwind. Jake is pretty sure that’s what he needs. No, scratch that – he’s certain that’s what he needs. Ben takes him to loud clubs with drugs and pretty women who are Victoria Secret models and it is worlds away from what Jake’s used to, but most importantly –

Most importantly, Ben makes him feel like he’s special.

“Tell you what,” he says, leaning back, speaking calmly even over the pulsing beat of the music, “as a gesture of good faith, while you’re getting into a hundred schools, I’ll put you on two continents.”

Jake’s mouth falls open and the first thought in his head is, _wait until Jim hears this_. Then he thinks some more. “If – if you don’t have a place to crash, you could definitely come and live with us.”

Ben grins. “Let’s line up some shots.”

And then, several drinks later, “You ever been in a foursome, Jake?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everything kind of goes in a blur with Ben around, with the drugs and the women and the drinking and, well, everything. But every time he tries to focus in on these criticisms, Jim’s voice comes into his head and that’s the last thing he wants to hear.

Until he actually hears it down the stairs. Something about being old. He rolls his eyes as he walks down, he’s told him a million times that going grey early isn’t a bad thing.

“Jim,” he greets, smiling.

“Hey, Jake,” Jim says. Fuck, he looks like shit. “I waited an hour for you at the airport.”

“Oh.” He must’ve slept in later than he thought. “Well, you’re here now. We got some cool new stuff to show you – Stephen, did you show him The Wall?”

“The Wall?” Jim repeats.

“We’re just calling it The Wall.”

“Forget that,” Ben says, gesturing with a glass that seems to have magically appeared in his hands. “Tell him about the meeting I set up. With Peter Thiel.”

Jim turns around and gives Ben a blank stare. “You set up a business meeting.”

“With an angel investor,” Ben hums. “While you were off partying it up in Cuba with the Castros, some of us were doing real work.”

The expression on Jim’s face is not one Jake’s ever seen before. It looks like the vein in his forehead is about to pop. He takes a deep breath. “Jake,” he says, slowly, calmly, “can I talk to you alone?”

“Sure.” Jake leads him aside, into the hallway, closing the door behind them. He’s not really sure what they’re supposed to be talking about so he just jumps right in. “So, how’s it going? How’s Sharon? How was working with your dad?”

“I’ve never been to Cuba,” Jim says. His expression is tense, serious, like it’s imperative Jake understand this.

“I know.” Jake didn’t know.

“There’s a good chance that if I go to Cuba, I could be killed.”

“I know,” Jake says again. He clears his throat. “How’s – How’s Sharon?”

“Sharon,” Jim lets out a tired chuckle and shakes his head. “She’s… she’s crazy. She’s actually psychotic. I am actually frightened of her.”

“Still,” Jake shrugs, “it must be nice to _have_ a girlfriend.”

Jim gapes at him. “Is – is _that_ what this is all about? Is _that_ why you’re letting that fucking guy go out and represent our company?”

He’s all the way on the other side of the hall and Jake walks over. “You gotta move out here, Jim,” he says, “this is where it’s all happening –”

“Did you hear what I said, Jake?”

“You gotta move out here,” he says again. “I’m afraid if you don’t come out here, you’re going to get left behind.” The next bit comes out in a rush. “I want – no, I _need_ you out here, Jim. It’s – everything’s moving so fast, even faster than Ben anticipated –”

Jim’s gaping again, but Jake can’t tell at what. “What did you say?”

“We have over three hundred thousand members, we’re in a hundred and sixty schools, five in Europe –”

“I fucking know that, Jake, I’m the CFO –”

“Well, Ben’s doing a better fucking job than you _ever_ have,” Jake snaps.

There’s a long pause. Jim grabs his bag off the floor and hoists it over his shoulder. “I’m gonna stay at a hotel tonight.”

Something squeezes Jake’s chest. “Jim,” he bites his lip. “Jim, I –”

“Don’t,” Jim says. He points his finger at Jake, taking a deep breath and letting it hiss out through his nose. “Just… don’t.”

“At least let me call you a cab,” Jake offers, but his voice is too quiet and Jim’s already at the other end of the hallway. The door opens and closes and he’s gone.

“Who was that?” one of the girls asks.

“A nobody,” Ben says. “Don’t worry about him.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It takes Jim a couple of rings to pick up. Jake doesn’t understand why it would, when all he’s doing is sneaking behind their backs and ruining their company. He paces around a bit until the phone picks up. “You froze our account?”

“Hello to you too,” Jim says. He sounds tired. He always sounds tired. He sounds like he hasn’t shaved. He looks nice when he doesn’t shave.

“You froze the account,” Jake says instead. “Do you realize that your actions can permanently destroy everything I’ve been working on?”

“I’m not as dumb as you think,” Jim replies. That probably should sound a lot more scathing and harsh, but it just sounds halfhearted and distracted.

For whatever reason, that just makes Jake angrier. “Oh, really? Well let me explain it to you in terms that you can understand – without money, the site goes down. And if the site is down, then people won’t use it. And if even a _few_ people aren’t using it, that quickly leads to _nobody_ using it and do you really want to go back to watching _Mission Impossible_ in our rundown dorm room?”

“Holy shit!” Jim suddenly shouts. “What is wrong with you?”

“No, what is wrong with _you_?” Jake snaps back. “Did you _like_ it when girls wouldn’t talk to us? When everyone thought we were losers? Do you _want_ to be that again?”

“Hang on, hang on –”

Jake can’t believe it. What on earth could Jim be dealing with that’s more important than this. “Look, I know you’re charming and charismatic and you can jump back on your feet and marry rich or whatever but not all of us can do that. I sure as hell can’t do that.”

He pauses. Still no response. “Okay, I get you might’ve been frustrated by what happened. And maybe Ben got you angry.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, hang on,” Jim sounds a little out of breath, a little distracted, but then his voice becomes clearer. “I’m sorry. I got angry. I acted out. But I had to get your attention.”

“I have some news that should cheer you up,” Jake says. He waits a beat, just for dramatic tension. “Peter Thiel just made an angel investment of a half a million dollars. And he’s setting us up in an office. Get your ass to San Francisco, Jim. I…” he bites his lip. “I need you.”

Jim’s smile is evident in his very tone. It’s infectious. It makes Jake smile too. “I’m on my way.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re gonna come back though, right?” Jake asks, as he walks with Jim down the hall. “I mean, we’re gonna throw a party when we hit a million members. You have to be there for that.”

Jim shakes his head. “A million members,” he repeats, chuckling in disbelief. “Remember when I had to explain Erin’s algorithm to you in the middle of the night in your dorm room.”

“I do,” Jake smiles.

“I’ll be back,” Jim says, and he seals the promise with a kiss on the cheek. It leaves Jake buzzing for the rest of the day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next time he sees Jim, it’s because he’s grabbed his computer and smashed it against the desk. Jake blinks and gapes up at him. Words die in his throat.

“You set me up,” Jim says, accuses, seethes with anger and sadness and everything in between.

“You signed the papers.” Jake doesn’t know what else to say. “I didn’t force you to sign the papers. I didn’t make you make a bad deal with your own company.”

“It’ll be like I’m not even _part_ of the company,” Jim’s voice cracks near the end.

“You’re _not_ part of the company,” Ben says. He takes a sip from his coffee mug and shrugs. “Just check the masthead.” He smirks at the expression on Jim’s face. “What, did you think we’d let you parade around and pretend that you’re a real businessman?”

“Suck my fucking dick, Ben,” Jim snaps. Security guards start to walk in but he’s focused solely on Jake. “So, what? What was all of this? You pitying the dumb kid who went to that dumb BU school? The kid who wasn’t smart enough to get into Harvard and didn’t know you were a sociopathic piece of shit?”

Jake doesn’t say anything. Jim keeps going. There’s really nothing more than anger now. “Lawyer up, asshole, because I’m coming back for _everything_.”

Back at the restaurant, ages ago, Jen told him that there was a piece of Jake’s soul missing. He’s pretty sure that part of his soul just punched Ben Shapiro in the face.

Things go back to normal right after Jim leaves. Stephen and Jonah are somewhere, having their own fun, or maybe they’ve already left after what they saw. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need them anyway.

Ben wraps an arm around Jake’s shoulders and they watch as the member count hits one million.

It’s a hollow sort of victory.


End file.
